The Frightening New Hobby of Mr Eric Cartman
by Yay Ninja Bob
Summary: Cartman paused, “In my dreams… my messages from God… He shows me what will be the future of each person if I don’t save them,” COMPLETE.
1. It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Xmas

**The Frightening New Hobby of Mr. Eric Cartman**

_A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California_

Chapter 1: It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Snow seemed to be falling much more than usual in South Park, according to young Stan Marsh. He sat at his computer desk writing yet another essay for English. The high school junior was at the top of his class. He didn't consider himself to be that smart; he just had a way with people. As class president and top athlete, he thought he was spoiled by the faculty. He didn't think he was supposed to be in Honors.

Kyle belonged in honors. He had the highest grades in the whole school, but he was shy. Number one in class rank, with a 4 point blah blah blah GPA. He was in honors as well, but he hardly excelled in the social part of life. Nonetheless, he was still Stan's best friend.

Cartman was able to cheat his way to the top. Stan shared several classes with him, and the fat tub of lard spent most of his time sleeping in class. Amazingly, he still did extremely well and was set to become editor of the school's newspaper his senior year.

Kenny cut school a lot. He came to school only when he felt like it, and Stan envied that. One day he tried to cut a class with him, but he chickened out last minute. He felt like a big fag as he told Kenny that he had to go back to fifth period.

"Transcendentalism sucks ass," Stan mumbled to himself as he printed out his essay.

"You barely finishing that damn paper on Transcendentalism?" Stan heard Kyle say from behind. Kyle walked into Stan's room.

"What's up?" Stan said as he shut down his computer.

"Nothing much. Cartman gave me a call. He wants us to come over to his house. What do you think? Should we bother?"

Stan shrugged, "I got nothing else to do."

As Stan and Kyle walked to Cartman's house, they witnessed many citizens decorating their houses for the holidays.

"Damn, December already…" Kyle said as they walked up the driveway of the Cartman residence.

Stan rang the door bell and Cartman quickly answered. He signaled for the two to come in. He pressed his finger to his lips, "Shh…"

"What is it?" Stan whispered.

"Yeah, what do you want _now_?" Kyle said already annoyed.

"Keep it down, alright?" Eric said in a harsh whisper, "Dudes, listen. This is very important."

Somehow Stan doubted that this could be important due to the fact that this was Cartman. "What?"

"Alright," Cartman began, "I consider you guys to be my friends, kinda, but not really… Anyway, you're not going to believe what God told me last night."

Here we go again. Cartman seem to always have messages from God. God wants him to make ten million dollars and now what could this be? Stan blamed his Christainy-Jesus-loving-whore of a mother, but he kept that to himself.

"What?" Kyle said even more ticked off.

"If you guys help me with this, you are guaranteed admission into Heaven. Even you, Jew."

Stan raised an eyebrow, "Help you with what?"

Cartman grinned and Stan shivered. He hated that look. That look meant they were in for yet another adventure that was anything but enjoyable.

Eric waved for them to follow him. They walked to the basement door, and Cartman slowly turned the knob. The door creaked open. The three boys crept down to about mid-flight of the stair case. It was dark. Very dark. Stan thought he heard something… crying? A dog? No, no, it was not a dog. It was a person.

Cartman, who stood in front of Stan, spoke softly, "No turning back now, guys. After I turn on this light, you have to do God's will."

"What?" Kyle said from behind, "Come on Stan, let's get out of here." Stan heard Kyle walking back up the stairs. The door creaked open and Stan could see Kyle's silhouette at the doorway, "Come on, Dude. This is stupid."

Stan heard the whimpering again. He strained his eyes to see what it was.

"Fine, Kyle! Leave!" Cartman yelled, "But Stan's staying, aren't you Stan?"

"Come on, Stan! Let's go!"

"Kyle, I don't know… I…" Stan was generally confused. He wanted to leave, yet he didn't. "Maybe, we should stay…"

"Stan, are you serious? Let's go!"

"Kyle, if you're leaving then close the damn door already!" Cartman screamed.

"Stan!"

"Close the door!"

"_Stan_!"

"He's staying! Close the fucking door!"

Stan heard the door slam. Kyle was gone. Suddenly, Stan became instantly nauseous.

"Good choice, Stan. This is God's will. You're doing the right thing."

Cartman switched on the light. Stan stood horrified as he witnessed a girl, tied up, on the floor, her head bleeding from a severe wound. He knew that girl. She was in Cartman and his Physics class. She lie on the floor crying, her mouth was bound with thick tape, but Stan could hear her muffle the words, "Help me."

Stan was frozen as he stared at her. Outside, he could hear the singing of Christmas carolers. Cartman descended from the stairs. He stood by the girl. Smiling at Stan, he retrieved a knife from his pocket. He knelt down, and slit the girl's throat. Stan stood paralyzed, watching the girl die, all to the melody of "Silent Night."


	2. God Doesn't Tolerate Tattletales

**The Frightening New Hobby of Mr. Eric Cartman**

_A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California_

Chapter 2: God Doesn't Tolerate Tattletales

"You're fucking crazy…" Stan said in complete shock as Cartman cleaned his knife with a small piece of cloth. Stan began to slowly back up the stairs, keeping a watchful eye on Cartman who had his back turned. He had to get Kyle. He had to call the police. He had to get away from Cartman. He almost had reached the basement door when Cartman noticed him.

"Where are you going?" Cartman asked, slowly approaching Stan, "I have to tell you why I did what I did."

"I know why! You're fucking insane!" Stan hollered, his voice shaking with pure fear. His eyes stared wide at the knife in Cartman's hand.

"Dude, I'm not going to kill you. Relax," he stuck the knife back in his back pocket. "I don't blame you for thinking that I'm crazy, but you _have_ to believe me, Stan. This was _God's will_." The teenage kid spoke in the most calm manner Stan had ever heard. How could he be so tranquil? He just killed someone. "Stan, God came to me in a dream last night, He--"

Stan shook his head, "You need help, you crazy fuck…"

Cartman snapped, "It's this fuckin' messed up world that needs _help_! They need God. They need _us_," Cartman placed a hand on Stan's shoulder, "Together, we can save _lives_. I saved this girl's life, can't you see?"

Stan pulled away, "You murdered her!"

"I saved her. God told me, 'Eric Theodore Cartman, save Amy Anderson.' And I did. I did it just like God told me to."

Stan shook his head vigorously, "No! You've lost it!" he opened the basement door and ran out.

"Wait, Stan!" Cartman chased after him.

"No! I'm going to the police!" he said running out of the house.

"Fine! It doesn't matter! God will stop you, Stan Marsh! God will show you his plan!"

Stan kept running in the direction of town. The snow fall was so thick, he could hardy see. He ran faster and faster, for what seemed like forever. He stopped for a few moments to catch his breath. As he stood, bent over, gasping for air he heard a car honking. He looked and saw that it was his mom driving home from work, "Stanley!" she called out, "Get in the car!"

Stan climbed into the vehicle, "Mom take me to the police!"

"What? What for?"

"Just please hurry!"

Mrs. Marsh turned the car around and started driving towards town, "Stan, what's going on? What did you do?"

"Nothing! It's Eric! He's--"

Stan was interrupted by a sudden screeching noise. The world seemed to play in slow motion in the eyes of Stan Marsh, as the car span out of control. There were bright lights and then total darkness.

* * *

Stan awoke in a hospital bed. He was all alone for several minutes as he pieced together everything that happened. His head hurt. He discovered that his arm was in a cast. Kyle walked into the room casually, not even noticing that Stan was sitting up in bed at first glance. When he finally realized his dear friend was awake he rushed to his side, "Stan! Holy shit! You're awake!"

"How long?" Stan said in a dry, quavering voice.

"Dude, like two weeks!"

"My mom?"

Kyle's expression went from ecstatic to somber, "Ah, Dude.. She… she didn't make it…" he paused, "They buried her last Saturday… I…I'm sorry, Stan…"

Stan stared at Kyle. His mom was dead. It was Cartman's fault. Cartman. He almost forgot. "Kyle."

"What?"

"I need to talk to you about--"

There was a loud crash, as something smashed through the hospital window.

"What the fuck?" Kyle said as the two went to investigate.

It was a white dove. Or at least it _was_ a white dove. The creature lay dead, stained with blood on the tiled floor, and shards of glass all around. A nurse rushed into the room, screaming something that was incomprehensible to Stan.

_"God will stop you, Stan Marsh! God will show you his plan!"_ echoed through Stan's head. Stan Marsh was officially scared out of his mind.

* * *

"We're eating left-overs tonight, turd," was the greeting Stan received from his sister when she picked him up from the hospital that day. His dad was working longer hours, to try to make ends meet now that their mother was gone. Shelly had a job of course, but she could only work part time, because of her college schedule. She was going to become an elementary school teacher. Stan could hardly imagine her teaching little kids. She'd probably threaten them into doing their homework.

"Shelly?"

"What?" she groaned, "Listen, just 'cause you've been asleep for two friggin' weeks doesn't mean I'm gonna feel sorry for you. You're still a turd in my book!"

"Sure, but, Shelly… do you believe in God?"

"Well of course I believe in God! We're Catholics, retard!"

"Yeah, right…" Stan decided not to talk anymore during the ride home. All he needed was another car crash, or a bird to hit the windshield right now.

When they reached the house, Stan went straight to his room, and plopped down on his bed. He lied there, staring up at the ceiling. He needed to think. He just needed quiet. But alas, his thoughts were interrupted before they even began, when his cell phone rang. He scrambled to retrieve the phone from his backpack, "Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, Stan," said Cartman on the other line.

Stan's body grew cold.

"Sorry 'bout you're mom, Dude. But don't worry, she's in Heaven now."

"Shut up, you fucking lunatic! You shut up!"

"Now calm down, Stan," Cartman said in a peaceful tone, "Is the bird okay?"

"How the fuck did you know about that? Did you talk to Kyle?"

"No, no, no. God told me he would send you a sign. It was a white dove, right?"

Stan didn't answer.

"Come over to my house tomorrow. Around six, okay? And Stan? Relax."

* * *

Thanks so much for all of your reviews. Please keep them coming. 


	3. Stan Saves His First Soul

**The Frightening New Hobby of Mr. Eric Cartman**

_A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California_

Chapter 3: Stan Saves His First Soul

It was December 20th, and with just five days before Christmas, Stan was hardly in the festive mood. He spent the next day catching up with his school work. Kyle called him a few times, but Stan didn't answer his phone. He knew Kyle suspected something. Kyle was clever. He knew when something was up. But Stan couldn't tell him. Not yet. He wasn't completely sire on what was happening himself.

At 5:59 PM Stan arrived at Eric's house. Cartman greeted him indifferently and asked Stan if he wanted something to drink. Stan said no and there were no arguments. Then Cartman spent nearly an hour talking about what happened at school during Stan's absence. He spoke nothing about "God's Will", and Stan grew more and more apprehensive with every passing minute. Was Cartman fucking with him?

So time passed and Stan began to relax. But when at last Stan began to believe that "God's Will" never existed and that Cartman's madness was all a bad dream, Cartman led him to the basement.

Stan braced himself. He expected to see another kid tied up in the corner of the basement, but there was nothing. Cartman sat down at a table and Stan sat across from him. Eric pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He passed it to Stan and he unfolded it, "Karissa Trujillo. 1188 Bradley Avenue…" Stan read aloud, "What is this?"

"Karissa. She's the next soul we're saving."

"Why her?" Stan knew Karissa well. He had both English and Pre-Calculus with the girl. Like he and Cartman, she was a junior. As head of the debate and speech team and assistant editor of the yearbook, Karissa was a gifted student. Kyle had somewhat of a crush on her.

"God told me she needed saving. He gave me instructions and it involves you."

"Whoa, I'm not going to kill anyone, Dude!"

"You are not _killing_ anyone, Stan. You're _saving_--"

"Now way! No fucking way!"

"Stan, relax. Just listen to God's plan." Stan quieted and Cartman continued, "Tonight at nine 'o clock, we go to this address. We go to the backyard and she'll be there. I gotta stay out of sight, while you go up to her and ask her out on a date--"

"_What?_"

"Don't worry, you won't be going on one. She likes you, so just ask her. That's all you need to do?"

"…and after that… what happens?"

"Does it matter?"

* * *

It was a calm, quiet night. Just as Cartman claimed God told him, they found Karissa in her backyard. She was gazing through a telescope. Her brown curls were tied back in a single pony tail and she was dressed in her pajamas. Stan came up to her. He was scared and nervous. She saw him and smiled, "What's up?"

Stan frowned, "Uh…" he forgot what he was going to say. He stared at her, "Uh…" Stan saw Cartman quietly sneaking up behind Karissa with a large brick in his right hand. The boy was right behind the girl, when he raised his right hand high above her head, "Holy shit," Stan said in a entranced sort of way, watching horrified.

"Wha--" Karissa began but was cut short when Cartman struck her with the brick in the back of the head. The girl fell to the floor unconscious.

"_Holy shit_!" Stan repeated, but this time he screamed.

Cartman threw the girl's body over his shoulder, "Come one," he said, and Stan could do nothing but follow.

* * *

Stan's job was to keep watch on the unconscious and tied up Karissa. He sat on a chair some three feet away from her motionless body, staring at her. Tears fell from his crystal blue eyes. He couldn't help crying. He didn't care if he was a fag for doing so. He'd rather be a fag than a heartless murderer. Some hour later she began to wrestle about a little. Her eyed fluttered open and she looked at Stan, "What are you doing?" she struggled to speak through the thick, gray masking tape on her mouth.

Stan said nothing.

"Stan! Stan, please untie me!" her eyes filled with tears.

Stan said nothing.

"Stan!" she pleaded. The girl began to cry hysterically. Stan heard the basement door open. Cartman came in. He knelt beside Karissa. Turning her head so that she faced him, Cartman looked into her eyes, "I'll pray for you." He took the same knife he used to kill Amy Anderson from his back pocket. Karissa screamed at the sight of the weapon, "Stan!"

Stan said nothing.

The girl fought furiously to get loose from the tape that bound her. She managed to kick Cartman a few times, but her situation was a hopeless one. Cartman pressed the knife to her throat, and Stan looked away. He heard the girl's struggling cease. She was dead.

"She's with God now," Cartman said leaving the basement.

Stan looked down at the dead girl. He stared at her for a long time. He wanted to apologize to her. He wanted to say that he was sorry. He wanted to say he was going to stop that crazy son of a bitch.

But Stan said nothing.


	4. Christmas Eve In The Basement

**The Frightening New Hobby of Mr. Eric Cartman**

_A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California_

Chapter 4: Christmas Eve In The Basement

When Stan got home, he found that his cell phone a dozen or so messages left by Kyle. "Stan, where are you, Dude? Are you okay? Listen--"

Delete.

"Stan, come on man. Answer your phone--"

Delete.

"Stan, I think we should talk--"

Delete.

"Listen, I know you're going through some rough times--"

Delete.

"Dude, I _really_ need to talk to you--"

Delete.

"Stan, I had a dream last night--a nightmare-- I dunno… Please, Dude, I'm really worried--"

Delete.

"Stan, come on! Pick up your phone! I--"

* * *

Stan couldn't sleep. He didn't sleep. He did absolutely nothing for the following three days. He locked himself in his room and drowned himself in his thoughts. He lied on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling for hours, repeating, "Cartman has gone crazy. I have to tell someone. He's gone crazy. He didn't save them. He killed them. Cartman's gone crazy. I have to tell someone."

Anybody who was not aware of the teenager's situation would believe Stan Marsh to have gone completely insane. And Stan himself was on the verge of concluding the same.

He didn't hear from Cartman until Christmas Eve. By then, Stan was virtually the walking dead. He hardly ate, and when he did it didn't take long for the image of Amy and Karissa's dead bodies to cross his mind, causing him to vomit everything up. Also, three and a half days without sleep is hazardous to the human health, not to mention psyche. Cartman asked Stan to come over, and although it was already ten at night, he obeyed. It wasn't as if he was going to sleep and to Stan, there was no other choice.

* * *

"God did not mention you in this plan, but I figured you'd like to watch," Cartman said showing Stan in.

"…Yeah, sure…" Stan said in a voice quite monotone.

"I've already got him in the basement."

"…cool…"

"Oh, wait here, Dude." Cartman left Stan in the living room alone. Stan could here thumping noises from the basement. Whoever was down there was trying to get out. Cartman returned holding a wrapped gift, "Merry Christmas, Stan."

Stan took the gift. He stared at the square package and then at Cartman.

"Well, open it!"

Stan tore at the decorative paper. He opened the box and pulled out a small, silver hand gun.

"Sweet, huh?" Cartman grinned, "I got one, too. Now we don't have to get all bloody with that damn knife."

Stan stuck the gun in his pocket, "…thanks…" he paused, "So… who are you kil-- saving tonight?"

"Kenny McCormick."

"What?" Stan was finally awoken from his hypnotized state, "You can't kill Kenny!"

"I'm not killing--"

"No, no, no! Fuck _this_!" Stan was not going to stand by and let this happen. He ran down into the basement.

"Stan!" Cartman yelled after him.

Stan found Kenny tied up in the same spot Amy was, as was Karissa. He pulled the tape off his mouth and the blonde haired boy let out a painful cry. Stan began to untie his arms.

"What the fuck is wrong with Cartman?" Kenny shouted.

"Shut up, Dude! Hold Still!"

"Stan, what're you doing?" Cartman hollered running down the basement stairs.

Kenny's arms were free. Stan stood up and faced Cartman. He pulled out the gun the fat ass gave him and pointed it at him.

"Stan! What the fuck?" Cartman exclaimed, slightly backing up.

"Shoot him! Shoot the fat fuck!" Kenny rallied as he unmasked the tape that bound his feet.

Stan kept the weapon pointed at Cartman, "This has gone on long enough, Cartman!"

"Shoot him!" Kenny yelled, now standing beside Stan.

"Kenny, not now!" Stan argued. He wanted to ask Cartman a few questions before he did anything.

"Shoot his ass, Stan! The fat fuck's lost it! Shoot the fucking lunatic!"

"Kenny, can you--"

"_Shoot _the mother fucker!"

Stan looked at Kenny, "Dude, first I--" There was a loud noise and Kenny's whole body jerked back, and blood and flesh erupted from the back of his head. He fell backwards and hit the floor. Kenny was dead with one shot to the head.


	5. God's Will

**The Frightening New Hobby of Mr. Eric Cartman**

_A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California_

Chapter 5: God's Will

"You bastard!" Stan screamed, "You fucking bastard! Why? _Why_, Dude?"

"It was God's will."

"Aw, fuck that! You killed Kenny!"

"I _saved _Ken--"

"Bull shit! Bull _shit_!" Stan pointed the gun at Cartman again, "You're _crazy_! Don't you see? You've fuckin' lost it, Cartman! God is _not _talking to you!"

"Yes he _is_!"

"No! He isn't! God damn it, Cartman! You're not saving anyone, understand? You killed Amy!"

"I saved her!"

"You killed Karissa!"

"I saved her, and so did you!"

"You killed Kenny!"

"I saved him!"

"Ahhh!" Stan screamed. He drew a deep breathe, "The from _what_, Dude? What the fuck could you possibly be saving them from?"

Cartman paused, "In my dreams… my messages from God… He shows me what will be the future of each person if I don't save them," Cartman sighed, "Amy would've grown up to be hooked on all sorts of shit. She would die from an overdose by the time she's 20."

Stan shook his head, "Liar!"

"Karissa," Cartman continued, "Would've gone to college. UC Berkley. She'd major in political science and eventually get a job working on the campaign for Hillary Clinton. She'd commit suicide after Hillary becomes dictator of the world."

"Bull shit!"

"Kenny would have been a drunk. He'd work at the gas station, struggling to support his wife and three daughter, who he would molest everyday as soon as he got home from work. He'd die at the age of 39 after falling asleep drunk and choking on his own vomit in his sleep."

"You're fucking crazy!"

"And Stan," Cartman continued casually, "Just as you and Kenny were arguing, God revealed what lay ahead for you."

"You're insane!" Stan's voice shook a little.

"You'll attend the University of Denver, simply because that's where Wendy's going. She doesn't love you. She's told you. She'll tell you again. You won't accept it. You become obsessive. After seeing her making out with Kyle, you loose it. You will kill both of them-- your best friend and your beloved. You'll go to prison, get the death penalty, and die from lethal injection."

And with that Stan Marsh fired at Cartman. Six shots later, the boy fell to the ground dead. Stan dropped the gun and ran. He ran faster and faster, unsure of his destination-- unsure if he truly was running. When he stopped he realized he was at the familiar bus stop he always hung out around. He sat, propped up against the metal sign, staring up at the night sky.

"Stan?"

Stan stood up quickly and turned around. Kyle stood in front of him. The Jew wore a tired look on his face. He stared at Stan for a long time, his jaw slightly dropped and his green hat in his hands. "Stan…" he said melodiously, coming closer.

Stan had tears in his eyes. He fought to keep the drops of water from escaping, but it wasn't long before he broke down crying. He was confused. He was scared. Why did he shoot Cartman? He could've just taken him to a mental institute or something… Or was Cartman about to shoot him? It felt like that at the moment… And all that crap Cartman was saying… It was the ramblings of a mad man, right? It had to be. Stan Marsh was confused and _very _scared.

The teenage boy fell to his knees, crying. With his hand covering his eyes, as if he could fool Kyle, he wept.

"I'm sorry, Stan…" Kyle said. Stan continued to weep. He felt Kyle's hand gently touch his shoulder, "Stan…" Kyle's voice was quiet, "I'm sorry, but…"

Stan looked up at Kyle. Kyle reached into his cap and pulled out the pistol Stan used to kill Cartman, "This is God's will."

Stan felt a sharp jolt of pain in his head that quickly traveled down his entire body. Everything went black. He felt his head hit the ground, and then another sharp pain in his chest. And then…nothing.

The End.


End file.
